


Dressed to the Nines

by CelestialVoid



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Boys in Skirts, Boys in dresses, But not in the kinky way, Crack, Crossdressing, Dresses, Fluff and Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 03:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14346834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: The Box comes up the same time every fortnight, but this time WICKED hasn’t sent up the usual supply of clothes; they’ve sent up dresses.





	Dressed to the Nines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loveyProphet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveyProphet/gifts).



The air was split by the piercing howl of an alarm. Thomas flinched, cupping his hands over his ears as the siren echoed through the open Glade.

“What is that?” Thomas asked, his chest tightening as panic flooded his veins.

“The Box,” Newt answered. He made his way across the Glade, limping across the grassy field and over to the large metal doors in the middle of the stolen courtyard. Thomas followed, catching a glimpse of Minho as he jogged over from the Map Room, meeting them there.

The siren died down and Thomas watched as Minho and Newt each grabbed a handle and pulled the doors back. The small room was filled with darkness, a couple of crates and barrels stacked in the corners. In the middle of the Box was a large cardboard box, its contents overflowing the open flaps.

“What is that?” Minho muttered, his brow furrowed with confusion.

“I don’t know,” Newt muttered, dropping down into the Box. He reached into the cardboard box, picking up a bunch of rippling black fabric and inspecting it. A moment of quiet passed before he muttered, “You have got to be kidding me.”

“What is it?” One of the boys called out from the gathering crowd.

“Minho,” Newt called out. “Help me lift this thing out.”

Minho reached forward, grabbing one of the folded cardboard flaps and hoisting the heavy box out of the Box before reaching a hand out to Newt and helping him climb out of the darkness.

“Gally, Chris, you two empty out the rest of the delivery,” Alby instructed, his eyes focused on the carboard box as he made his way over to their sides.

“So,” Minho said after a moment. “What’s in the bloody box?”

Newt picked up a bunch of black fabric, holding it up to show what it was.

A dress.

“You’re kidding,” Minho said dryly.

“I wish I was,” Newt replied. “But it seems that the buggin’ Creators are messing with us.”

“That’s just great,” Minho seethed, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“We’ve got boys burning holes through their pants with all the work they’re doing, and instead of sending us shorts, they send dresses,” Alby reiterated, trying to make sense of it all.

“Well, at least they sent clothes, and enough for all of us,” Newt said, trying to turn this into a good thing. “So we might as well make the best of what we have.”

Minho snatched the lacy black romper out of Newt’s gasp, walking past his friend and back towards the Map Room.

“I thought you weren’t interested?” Newt called after him.

“If we’re going to be stuck with this klunk, then I might as well get what I want,” Minho shouted over his shoulder. “By the way, Runners get first grabs.”

Newt opened his mouth to object, but Minho cut him off.

“I don’t need any of these shanks not being able to make it back before the doors close because they tripped over a skirt.”

“Fair enough,” Newt muttered. “Well, Tommy, you get first pick.”

“And hurry up,” Minho shouted from across the Glade. “You’ve got ten minutes before we leave.”

Thomas felt his stomach twist as all eyes fell on him. He panicked, reaching into the box and grabbing one of the dresses off the top of the pile. He hurried away to the showers, not wanting eyes on him. He ducked into the building, stripping out of his hole-ridden pants and pulling on the dress.

It fitted surprisingly well, the soft blue fabric of the 1950s-style dress hugging his sides. It was fitted around his waist with a pleated skirt that hung off his hips. The soft fabric stretched as his chest rose and fell, letting him breathe easy. The neckline was fitted like a shirt with an open neckline; two lapels hanging open to expose the pale skin of his chest and collarbone, his skin covered in moles that were scattered like constellations in the night sky. A thick beige belt was fitted around his slender waist.

He slid his knife into the belt, folded up his old clothes and made his way over to the door, peeking out into the Glade. A hint of relief filled him when he noticed that quite a few others had changed out of the hole-riddled clothes and into the dresses.

Among the crowd of people, he spied Chuck. The boy had gotten changed into a thin summer dress, the wavering white fabric covered in vibrant yellow sunflowers that matched his mess of curls and his rosy pink cheeks.

He drew in a deep breath and stepped out into the Glade. He crossed the grassy fields and waited by the West Door, ignoring the gazes of those he passed. A few minutes later, Minho joined him.

The Runner was wearing the lacy black romper he had snatched from Newt’s grasp. Thin black holster straps were coiled around his neck, holding the dress up. A deep plunging neckline exposed the golden skin of his chest, the gaping fabric covered by a thin design of delicate lace. The skirt was made of thin lace, billowing around his thighs. A thin brown belt was coiled around his waist, holding his sheathed knife against his hip and his knapsack was slung over one shoulder.

His dark eyes rolled over Thomas, sparkling with desire and admiration as he took in the sight.

“The sneakers really make the look,” Minho teased, glancing down at Thomas’ shoes.

Thomas felt a warm blush colour his cheeks.

Minho chuckled and held out Thomas’ knapsack for him to take, now that it had been packed with enough food and water for them to last the day in the Maze.

“You ready?” Minho asked.

Thomas nodded.

“Alright, let’s go.”

 

 

Thomas was surprised how comfortable the dresses were, the breezy skirts making it more comfortable to run. By the time they had run the Maze and returned to draw the Maps, the sun was beginning to set, streaking the sky with vibrant bursts of purple and orange.

He and Minho made their way out of the Map Room and over to the kitchens when Newt and Alby made their way over to join them.

Newt was dressed in a yellow skater dress, the soft fabric fitting his slender body and exposing his surprisingly firm arms. On anyone else, the bright fabric would have looked obnoxiously bold and unflattering, but it was rather complementary to Newt, making his blond hair look like a halo. The dipping neckline exposed the ridge of his collarbone and the low back showed off his pale skin. The billowing skirt sat comfortably around his thighs, somehow complementing the dirty brown leather boots he wore.

Minho looked the boy over, gently gnawing at his lower lip as he nodded.

“You don’t look to bad,” Minho said. His eyes drifted over at Alby, looking him up and down before adding, “You on the other hand…”

“Another word and you’re sleeping in the Maze tonight,” Alby said warningly.

Thomas didn’t think their leader all that bad.

Alby was dressed in a draping khaki maxi dress, the cupped sleeves sitting atop his broad shoulders and the fabric bunched around his waist with a thick fabric belt. The skirt was parted, revealing glimpses of his thighs as he walked. He looked like a Roman god.

“Any news?” Alby asked, breaking the tension.

“Same as always,” Minho reported, a hint of sorrow in his voice.

Newt reached forward and gently patted his friend on the shoulder.

“You two did good. Go get something to eat,” he said softly before turning and heading to the Homestead.

Minho and Thomas nodded and made their way across the Glade and towards the kitchen.

In the light of dusk, Thomas spied Gally storming across the courtyard. He was also wearing a dress, a burgundy off-the-shoulder cocktail dress that was fitted around his broad chest. The rippling fabric of the asymmetrical skirt billowed around his legs as he trudged over to the kitchen.

“You know, there are only a few things that I want to see at least once before I die,” Minho mused. He pointed at Gally and added, “ _That_ ’s not one of them.”

Thomas tried his best to smother his laughter as he followed the Keeper towards the drifting smell of Frypan’s cooking.

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


End file.
